#snackx

What happens ??When dad decides to cook ……..!!!!

For the very first time, my father announced that today, he will prepare Gajar Ka Halwa for all of us. Puppa told me once, yeah “Puppa” not “Papa”.

So, he told me once, that he used to make tea when he was young. I thanked him for never making the tea after I was born. But he had the confidence that if he could make the tea, he could make anything in life. My mother slid the plate of carrots and grater towards him.

My aunt, I call her Bua, was watching all this. And from her expression, I could see, she was scared as hell. She instantly took her praying bead and started chanting some mantras in a separate room. I couldn’t understand why she was doing this.

Puppa told us to leave him alone in the kitchen, he told us that he couldn’t deliver his best when someone is constantly watching him. So we left him alone. I went to my bed with my cellphone. Mom went to the other room with her cellphone ( Astrology videos were waiting for her), and Bua was in the Puja room, with her chanting increased further.

I was discussing something with Mohit on Whatsapp, about how Anushka friend-zoned her, that I heard a faint noise of Mom yelling at something. I ignored it. But the noise became clearer and loud as Mom came to my room and yelled- “ IT’S FIRE, IT’S FIRE, LET’S MOVE OUT. THE KITCHEN IS ON FIRE. WE DON’T HAVE TIME. MOVE OUT. THE HOUSE IS BURNING.” We all ran out of the house like a scared cat who had a stone pelted at her. The fire was all over our house now. The fireman arrived in a few minutes. They took out all their machines and began pouring out long streams of water. After an hour the fire was finally settled and we all took a sigh of relief.

An officer came to us, near my father. And then I noticed the face of my father that had become charcoal black and his hairs like dry coconut husk.

“How this all happened?” The officer asked.

We all kept silent. Only our breaths could be heard. How could we tell that it was because of that Gajar ka Halwa? We didn’t have the courage.

And I understood now, why Bua was praying with her beads. And suddenly a thought came to me- “What had happened when Puppa made the tea last time?”

My Sanskari routine : Chicken Momos

I had made a rule for myself. Every Saturday evening I would have a full plate Chicken Momo. Now, you must be thinking of me as a Sanskari disciplined guy who has a time table for everything. But, the main reason why I became like this was money. Because two months back I would have a full plate Chicken Momo almost every day and being a hosteler with no job at hand, all I would have at the end of the month was regret.

Chicken Momos is an irresistible addiction for me. I don't know when I tasted it and how I tasted it but whenever it was, I fell in love with it at the exact moment. The simmering hot Momos with finely stuffed chicken when applied with the spicy red chutney- Oh! I can't tell you how orgasmic it is.

It's five in the evening and also Saturday. I wear a loose T-shirt with the stains of red chutney of last Saturday and head to my Saturday routine.

My Sanskari routine by SnackX.

Jhal Muri

I have always thought about what is something that has always defined my childhood train journey. Among many, one thing that has remained close to my heart is, Jhal Muri. We were so influenced by the man who sold Jhal Muri that we would mimic his voice and would laugh among our friends. The sharp and shrill voice of the Jhal Muri was symbolic to the crowded train stations.

Something that amazed me more than the Jhal Muri itself was how it was made and how it was kept. There was a big round steel container than had sections. Every section had a masala that would be going inside the Jhal Muri. The whole container had a big rope tied at it ends which was worn by the JhalMuri wala around his neck. Also, how the dexterous hands would move picking up different masalas, chopping onions, boiled potatoes, adding mustard oil and coriander at the end, was something so satisfying to see.

Pyaaz Pakodas

What is synonymous to rain and a cup of tea? C'mon think over it. Is it biscuits? Is it namkeen? Is it cakes? Aah! How couldn't you think of it? It's none other than Pakodas. The chemistry of rainy season and Pakodas is more famous than any of the love stories you have heard.

It's three in the afternoon and it's raining outside. I am sitting by the side of the window with a cup of tea and a plate of Pakodas. My wife is sleeping in the other room, I didn't wake her up. I made everything myself because I have a loose stomach for the last two days and if she saw me eating Pakodas, she would get mad. Even, I know the consequence of eating Pakodas but I couldn't resist. The rain didn't let me.

And as I take the first bite of Pakodas with a cup of tea, I went in a trance. The blend of fried onions and spices were perfectly balanced by the tea. I don't know why the loud chatter of the rain was definitely adding some secret flavours to the Pakoda. I can't deny it.

As I was devouring the last piece of the Pakoda left, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It felt familiar. I had chills down my spine. But I finished the last Pakoda before I was thrown to hell. 

My Secret Keeper

She was my best friend since childhood. I remember how I used to play hide and seek with her when I was a child. How she used to decorate my dolls and would say that I would get a beautiful husband when I would grow up. As I grew up we became more and more connected. From sharing the pain of my first period to sharing the restlessness when I first saw my crush to sharing the heartbreak when I had my first break up, I discussed everything with her. And she would herself blush when I would tell her these private things.

Apart from everything, there was a common thread between us. The two of us were an ardent lover of Golgappa ( Puchka). Be it any season, any month, any day, Golgappa was something we never missed. We would always squint our eyes over the tangy tamarind water and we would never shy away in asking the extra Golgappa after we had finished - "Bhaiya ek sukha wala dena".

She would always tell me how incomplete she is without me.

Dhoni Hai Na, Sambhal Lega!!

As a boy in his twenties standing at the Kharagpur Station with thousands of people passing through him, who knew that the boy wearing a blue TC coat will one day lead the Indian national team. Yes, we are talking about Mahendra Singh Dhoni.

What could be more grieving then getting run out on a duck at your first International match? Only a magician can turn that failure to become one of the most successful wicket-keeper batsmen in the world. It was always inside him, that resilience, that fighting spirit, that calmness. There was a time when Jharkhand was famous for its coal mines and minerals but now, when you ask someone about Jharkhand, they will most probably say- "Oh! Jharkhand, the state from where Dhoni came from?"

Such is the influence of Dhoni. 

Being the only captain to collect all the ICC trophies, being the wicketkeeper with most number of stumpings, being the batsman with most numbers of sixes hit, being the only batsman after Sangakkara to surpass the ten thousand mark, it wasn't a surprise why he was often called Mahendra Bahubali Dhoni.

It was not always the numbers that made him one of the legends of international cricket, it was also his humbleness and courtesy that made him great. One such example was when Ganguly was playing his last test match, and it was Dhoni who handed him the captaincy for last hours of the test match as a tribute and a mark of respect.

No wonder he was the best finisher in the world, even though the way he ended his cricketing innings broke hearts of millions. But still, you will always remain very close to our hearts. It is the END OF AN ERA.

We will always miss you, 

Aloo Masala Dosa

Every time I began eating a Masala dosa, I have this strange dilemma over pouring Sambar on Dosa or the Coconut chutney. As both are very dear to me and I don't want to sacrifice one with other over a bite of Dosa. Secondly, I sometimes have this dilemma over whether I am desecrating the purity of Dosa by eating it with Sambar or Coconut chutney. Am I missing the pure and original taste of dosa? Such is the influence of Dosa over me.

No food has taken such a considerable place in my heart as Dosa. I don't judge Dosa as good or bad. I eat it as it is. I never complain. Even when I eat the half-cooked dosa made my wife whose other part is stuck in a frying pan, I never complain (also because I have no other choice). I can't get divorced over a Dosa.

Now, in this COVID situation, I feel desperate to go out and eat those perfectly shaped Aloo Masala Dosa. I want to hear its crunchiness when I first tear it from its corners. I want to taste those stuffed potatoes that melt like cream with that tangy Sambar and mouth-watering Coconut chutney.

I don't know when I would have the pleasure to fall back over that dilemma again.

Alas!